


Time For This Later

by mollymauks



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: (there's a lot of that flying around rn), Angst, BUT THIS ONE IS NICER I SWEAR, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-28 15:23:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14452131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mollymauks/pseuds/mollymauks
Summary: Prompt:'I'm not good at this. I never have been.' Caleb has always struggled with words, and he struggles more than ever during the most important moment of his life.'He swayed slightly on the spot, losing the thread of his words. The others didn’t interrupt him. They were entirely silent. The world was entirely silent, as though holding its breath, watching this ritual complete. As it should.Without conscious thought, Caleb shrugged off his coat as he kept talking and gently covered Molly with it. He shouldn’t be cold, Caleb couldn’t stand the thought of that. The coat was a little dirty, and lumpy in strange places from all the interior pockets that held the components for his spells, but he didn’t think Molly would mind, just as long as he was warm.'





	Time For This Later

The temple was quiet. And in truth, it was less a temple, and more an enhanced gazebo that was somehow still standing despite the harsh weather in the north. But it was undoubtedly a temple to the Moonweaver, and Caleb couldn’t help but feel that Molly would like it, if he could be aware of his surroundings.

There were no walls, and the wind, reduced for once to a soft breeze as night drew in around them, rustled through their silent ranks, the only sounds the flapping of cloaks and the soft tears of his fellow party members.

A stream ran along beside the temple, only a few feet from circular slab of white stone that made up the floor. On a marble table in the centre of the small construct lay Mollymauk.

Death had finally tamed the flamboyant tiefling’s wildness.

In the first few weeks after they had met one another, Caleb had wondered what on earth it would take to make him a little more manageable, and a little less overwhelming. Now the desire to travel back in time and smack his former self and tell him he’d best pray he never found out welled up inside Caleb and he clenched his hands into tight fists in a fruitless attempt to stop them shaking.

He was quiet in death, still and silent. Though the colourful tattoos still burst out from his lavender skin, his horns remained pierced with jewellery, and the ever-present coat remained draped around him, the bright, colourful presence that just exuded naturally was now gone.

The world seemed a little more dim, and a little less alive since his passing. It was not a world Caleb felt inclined to spend much time in.

Giving himself a little shake, tearing his eyes away from the smooth, calm face, stopping his heart from aching at the thought of how young he looked like this, Caleb realised everyone was looking at him.

“It’s your turn, Caleb,” Jester said, sounding as though she had a terrible head cold. 

Her hands were placed over Molly’s chest, conducting the ritual. Caleb was proud of her, of how strong she had been for him, for all of them. She had cried through most of the ritual, including her own contribution to it, but she had maintained the spell, and had guided the others through it well, and had not shattered, as Caleb feared he might well have done.

Yasha stood at her side, one hand around her waist, lending her her strength, keeping her standing. All the while she had stood like a statue, stoic and silent as a spectre, her eyes never leaving Mollymauk’s face.

Caleb swallowed hard, clearing his throat, and stepped up to the alter. He reached out on instinct, seeking his partner’s warmth, the strange, comforting contradiction of his touch, both rough from the scarring that patterned his skin, but gentle in its care and its intent, then he pulled back, looking at Jester.

“Can I-” his voice rasped as though he’d been condemned to walk alone through a ravaging desert without water for the last thousand years and he broke off. Behind him, Nott gave his hand a soft, encouraging squeeze. 

Clearing his throat, he tried again, looking at Jester this time, in case that might make it easier. It didn’t. But he still managed to force the words out, “Can I touch him? Will that, will it disrupt the spell?”

Jester shook her head, tears still streaming from her eyes, “No you can-” She hiccuped and Yasha stepped in a little closer, “You can do whatever you think will help, whatever he would want.”

Unbidden, memories flooded into Caleb’s mind of times in the past when he’d been reading, at his desk, or in bed, and Molly had pressed against him, squeezing in between the book and his face like a persistent cat, craving attention, craving contact. He had peppered Caleb with soft little touches and kisses.

Some nights Caleb had caved into him, let him lure him away from his studies and into the hot, addictive embrace of his lover’s arms and body. Some nights they had come to a quiet compromise, and Molly had fallen asleep with his head in Caleb’s lap, Caleb’s fingers wound absently through his long, soft hair, growing longer every day, while he read on. Some nights…Some nights Caleb had been too engrossed in his work, too near the completion of a spell and he had pushed him away, he had, he had-

Something hot splattered against the hand he had outstretched towards the table and it was then he realised he was crying.

He had not succumbed to the tears before this moment. It had not been strength, it had been shock, and emptiness, and a grief so deep that it went beyond an emotion that could be expressed in tears, or screams, or any other kind of typical outpouring of feeling. Caleb had never been very good at that, anyway, but particularly not in moments like this.

Under other circumstances, he might have pulled away, tried to stop the tears, afraid of what the others might read into them. But in the moment, he found it impossible to care about anything but the abyssal void within his chest where Molly’s heart was meant to be.

They had not told the rest of the group. They had kept their relationship secret, at Caleb’s request. He had been afraid of changing the dynamic of the group, afraid of somehow wrecking one of the most wonderful gifts the world had ever given him in this party, in this family he had found with Mollymauk. Molly had understood, and had never pressed him but now…Well, they would all have to be blind, and deaf, and dead not to see what Caleb felt for Molly, how much it destroyed him to face losing him.

Giving himself a little shake he glanced toward Jester and mumbled, “Sorry.”

“Take your time,” she whispered back, thickly. “I would pat you on the head to let you know it’s okay but I- Yasha, pat him on the head for me, would you?” Yasha obliged. 

Caleb, in spite of himself, in spite of everything, found a faint smile tug at his lips, at the thought of how Molly would have reacted if he had been able to see this, at how he would have laughed, and likely demanded a head pat of his own.

Taking a deep breath, Caleb reached out and gently took one of Molly’s hands in his. He had expected it, had braced for it, but the unnatural cold that filled the touch still caused him to flinch. This was not Molly, this was not his Molly. 

Forcing himself not to utterly break, he closed his eyes, swaying slightly, and felt a steadying hand on his back. Who it belonged to, he couldn’t say, but he focused on the contact, opened his eyes once more, and forced himself to speak. 

“I am not good at this,” he confessed to Molly. 

He had thought he would have to work harder to pretend that the rest of them weren’t there, what with Nott’s soft, snuffling tears, the barely controlled rage simmering from Yasha, the frequent sounds of Beau sniffing while she tried to remain aloof and unconcerned, the divine flare of light emanating from beneath Jester’s hands, but as he opened his mouth and spoke to him for the first time since he had lost him, he found that pretending they were alone together, as they had so often been of late, was as simple and natural as breathing. 

“At the words, at persuading people, at talking to them, at explaining how I feel, what I want, what I need. You were the one with the silver tongue. I have, I have never been good at this, and you know that but I…As uncomfortable as this has always made me, as bad at it as I may be I will do it…I will do this, and I would do more.” He trembled slightly, and leaned in a little closer, his voice dropping just slightly as he said, “It terrifies me, the things that I would do for you, Mollymauk. But I would do them all the same, and I would have no regrets in my heart if they brought you back to me.” 

He drew a deep, shuddering breath and went on. “Jester talked to me about what this ritual would involve last night,” he said, “And I have watched the others, I have watched them make their offerings but I…I do not have anything to give you. My heart you have already, and took it with you, wherever you are now, because it is no longer here,” he tapped at his chest with a finger, “And so it is not mine to give any more. I do not have gold, or jewels, or items of great value. I don’t have political power, a title, or land. I am not a holy man, I do not have influence with the gods, or even a prayer that might help you.” 

Closing his eyes he moved closer, as close to the table as he could be, the cold stone making him shiver as he pressed against it, even through his layers of clothing. 

It was so cold in here. Molly hated the cold. 

He swayed slightly on the spot, losing the thread of his words. The others didn’t interrupt him. They were entirely silent. The world was entirely silent, as though holding its breath, watching this ritual complete. As it should. 

Without conscious thought, Caleb shrugged off his coat as he kept talking and gently covered Molly with it. He shouldn’t be cold, Caleb couldn’t stand the thought of that. The coat was a little dirty, and lumpy in strange places from all the interior pockets that held the components for his spells, but he didn’t think Molly would mind, just as long as he was warm. 

“But you did not have those things either, when you saved me. All you had were your words, and your good heart, and your strength to pull me back and keep me safe when I needed you.” 

He swallowed past the tightening lump in his throat, raising his free hand and stroking it through Molly’s hair in a way he’d done a thousand times before. 

“And so I will give those same words that you gave to me to save me, all those months ago, back to you, and I will hope they are enough to…To bring you back to me.” 

Caleb leaned in, brushing back Molly’s hair, careful of his horns, and his jewellery, the memory of Molly’s laughter when he had complained about them, and how difficult it made him to kiss weeks ago, warming him as he pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. 

“There will be time for this later,” he breathed, pressing his forehead against Molly’s and remaining there as he spoke, “When we are old, and somewhere quiet, and safe, together, then perhaps it will be time. But not now. I still need you now. Time for this later, Mollymauk. Come back to me. Please.” 

He withdrew, breathing hard considering all he was doing was standing in a quiet temple and saying a few words. He looked to Jester and vaguely nodded, at least he thought he did, indicating that he was done, and she should complete her ritual. 

“I am sorry,” she whispered to him, “But I need you to stand back from him for this last part.” 

Caleb didn’t move, not even when Nott tugged gently on his shirt, but Yasha came to his side, gently slid his hand from Molly’s, Nott deftly catching it a second later, to try and alleviate some of the emptiness, then she carefully drew him away. He didn’t resist her, stumbling back as though he was in a dream, a terrible dream that would end soon, that had to end soon. 

Jester closed her eyes, clutching her holy symbol in one hand, the other remaining, trembling, over Molly’s body, whispering under her breath in a language Caleb did not understand, lips moving faster and faster. The light between Molly and her hands glowed brighter and brighter, until it blazed like the sun in the confines of the small temple, and all of them were forced to look away, shielding their eyes. Jester stepped away, trembling, swaying, having to brace a hand against Yasha to steady herself. 

The light faded. The temple became dark once more. Silence reigned absolute. 

No-one spoke. No-one moved. No-one breathed. 

It seemed that to disturb the moment would break some sort of spell, that may just shatter the world around them. 

Each of them stared at Molly, hoping, praying, each in their own way. 

Then his whole body suddenly shivered, coughing as he stirred on the table, groggily pushing himself up into a sitting position. 

“Fuck me,” he muttered, putting a hand to his head and squinting, “Whatever I was drinking last night, nobody let me near it ever again. The dream I just had, I tell you-” 

He didn’t get much more out than that. The moment he had stirred, Caleb had pulled away from Nott and dived for him, and as soon as he had been close enough he had put a hand behind his head, scooped him up, and kissed him more soundly than he’d ever kissed him in his life. 

Molly tensed against him for a moment, clearly surprised by this sudden burst of very public affection, which wasn’t something Caleb was typically very enthusiastic about.  

A moment later, however, he relaxed, turning soft in Caleb’s arms, letting him hold him close, letting out a soft, content little sigh against his mouth as he kissed him back. 

When Caleb finally drew back Molly kept his eyes closed for a moment then shook himself, “Well,” he said, reaching up and patting Caleb rather clumsily on the cheek, “That was quite something, sweetheart.” He swayed slightly as he tried to sit up, clearly dizzy, “But I might need a lie down if you want to turn it into something more.” 

He peered over Caleb’s shoulder and seemed to take in their surroundings for the first time, noting the temple and the collection of emotional devastated party members gathered around them. 

“Oh,” he said, brightly, turning back to Caleb, “Are we telling them, then? About us?” 

Caleb cursed softly in Zemnian, tears splattering over the ground between them as he said, “I should have let them keep you, you’re insufferable.” Before Molly could even begin to process what he’d said, he was kissing him again, harder and deeper than he had a moment before, so much so that Molly slipped, and only his reflexes had him bracing a hand behind himself to support them, the other braced against Caleb’s chest.  

When Caleb drew away, Molly reached up and gently brushed a tear away with the tip of one of his black claws, “Hey no,” he said, gently, cupping Caleb’s cheek in his hand, “I know it’s a big step in our relationship, but there’s really no need to shed tears over this motley lot.” 

Caleb cursed at him again in Zemnian, shaking his head and pressing one hand to Molly’s chest, fumbling its way beneath his cloak until he found his chest and could feel the reassuring thump of his heartbeat beneath. The other he curled behind Molly’s neck, pressing his forehead to his and trembling. 

“Caleb-” Molly began, a slight note of concern in his voice now. 

“You died,” Caleb whispered to him, “You died, Mollymauk. You left me.” 

Behind them, Fjord whispered a soft, “Gods, Caleb,” at the abruptness of this revelation, but both ignored him. 

“Ah,” Molly replied, vaguely, “That explains it, then.” 

“Explains what?” Caleb asked thickly, wiping his eyes on the collar of his own coat, which he tugged up from where it had slipped down Molly’s body. 

“This thumping headache,” Molly replied cheerfully. 

Caleb punched him very gently on the shoulder, “You are an idiot, Mollymauk Tealeaf.” 

“Yep,” Molly agreed, happily, “But you went and fell for me, so I think that says more about you than it does about me, you know.” 

“Gods help me,” Caleb murmured, leaning in and kissing Molly once more. 

Then he just pulled him in close, letting the tiefling burrow against his chest, nuzzling into his neck, breathing him in while Caleb rested his chin on top of Molly’s head. 

He should have been more subtle and deft about revealing what had happened to Molly. He knew him well enough by now to understand that underneath the veneer of overly-cheerful quips, he was more disturbed by this than he was letting on. 

“Caleb!” A plaintive voice interrupted him before a small but sharp and painful elbow was jammed into his ribs, nudging him out of the way, “You’re hogging Molly all to yourself and it’s not fair! Even if you are his boyfriend or whatever, I need hugs to, since I’m the one who saved him.” 

Jester promptly pulled Molly into a bone-breaking hug that caused Caleb to wince, murmuring ‘Careful’ behind them, still keeping a hold on one of Molly’s hands as Jester attempted to squeeze the life from him. Molly only laughed, though, patting Jester on the back and saying something in Infernal that made her laugh. 

The others crowded in, too, now that Jester had broken the tension that had been keeping them at bay, as well as their tact, letting him and Caleb have their moment of reunion. It only stopped when Yasha announced they were done. She then scooped Molly up into her arms (Molly pretended to swoon, and Yasha scowled at him, but smiled ever so faintly when he arched up and kissed her nose in answer) then carried him to their cart and laid him gently in the back. 

Caleb climbed up beside him at once, Frumpkin leaping up after him, and sat beside him, taking his hand again and squeezing it tight, afraid to let it go for even a moment, as though that might make Molly vanish from him. 

Frumpkin curled up in Molly’s lap again and started purring. Molly absently stroked behind his ears, yawned, then laid his head on Caleb’s shoulder and mumbled, “I think I might sleep. Dying is tiring business.” 

“Don’t make a habit of it, then,” Caleb informed him, pressing a kiss to the top of his head then burying his nose in his hair, breathing him in and lingering there a while. 

“Mm,” Molly mumbled noncommittally, nestling in a little closer. 

Making a note to extract a more firm and certain promise on the not making a habit of dying thing at a later date, for now, Caleb contented himself with lifting his coat a little higher, covering Molly, as his breathing deepened, and he fell asleep curled against him like a cat. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!!! this one was at least a bit nicer than the last?? Do i get points for trying?? Anyways. Please come yell at me in the comments section if you have a spare second, I really do appreciate it very much!!


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